


Dear Connor Murphy,

by Levis_turtles



Series: Sincerely, Me [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor Didn't Die - AU, Depression, Drug Addiction, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Self Harm, Sibling Abuse (Mentioned), Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, they're fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: When Evan Hansen goes to the hospital about his wrist, he's asked to wait in the room of one of his classmates: Connor MurphyT/W in the tags





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I literally heard this musical for the first time yesterday, and I love it so much I had to write some fic, so *pretty wavy sounds* voila

Evan could imagine how it happened. An understaffed hospital, a busy night, some kind of Christmas scenario where all of the hospital rooms are full and half the patients have to double up or, if we’re still running with the metaphor, find a stable to squat in for the night. The nurse babbled at Evan as she led him through the wards, her plastic shoes peeling off the plastic floor with a plastic-peeling sound that made a muscle in Evan’s cheek twitch with every step.

“It’s not a spare room,” the nurse said, “but it should be big enough for the two of you. He’ll probably be sleeping anyway, and it’s only for a few minutes – it probably won’t even take an hour. You’re okay with that, right?”

She turned a look over her shoulder at Evan, and he felt himself smile. “It’s fine,” he said. It really wasn’t fine, but the nurse had a pretty smile, and Evan was nothing if not susceptible to a pretty smile and a pair of brown eyes.

The nurse stopped at the end of a long hallway lined with dozens of doors – it was a ward for private rooms, usually reserved for the terminally ill and those whose ailments should not be discussed.

When Evan saw the boy lying in the single bed, he realised that in this case, it was the latter.

Evan was in the room of Connor Murphy.

Evan recognised Connor from school – he was a year older than Evan, but he’d been held back, and they shared some of the same classes and a lunch period. They’d never spoken, but like the rest of the populous of their school, Evan couldn’t deny that he harboured a mild (and healthy) curiosity about the enigma that was Connor Murphy. 

“Just wait here for a few minutes,” the nurse said. She looked over at Connor for a moment, and Evan could have sworn that he saw her smile. “He shouldn’t wake up, but if he does, don’t worry. Someone comes by to check on him quite regularly, so you’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Evan said. He wished his voice wasn’t so quiet; he wished he knew what else to say.

Evan never knew what else to say.

“Okay, great,” the nurse said, and then she was bouncing out of the room, leaving Evan alone at the bedside of Connor Murphy.

Connor _freaking_ Murphy – if Evan had any friends, they would _flip_ when they heard about this.

Evan figured that standing at the edge of Connor’s bed would be creepy if anyone were to walk in, and he didn’t want to freak Connor out if he woke up, so Evan lowered himself on to one of the chairs the nurse had gestured to. The chair furthest from Connor groaned when Evan sat down, and he jumped right back up again with a yelp as his head was filled with images of himself falling to his doom.

A fall from a chair wouldn’t seriously hurt him, he knew, but then neither should a low fall from a tree, and yet here he was.

Evan settled in the second chair, close enough to Connor’s bedside that he could see the individual hairs of his eyelashes, the chipped black polish of his nails.

Evan had never looked so closely at Connor before, too afraid that he would catch his eye, but now that there was no chance of that happening, Evan allowed himself to stare.

Connor looked smaller up close, without the black jacket and the heavy leather boots. His skin was paler, his hair lighter. Evan had known that people thought Connor was attractive – he’d heard the girls in his class whispering about him, more than once – but he’d never understood their interest until now.

Connor’s face was delicate, his jaw narrow and angular, his nose straight and sharp, his cheekbones sculpted like scaffolding. His eyebrows were dark, rough but prettily shaped, and his eyelashes cast jagged shadows over the arch of his cheeks. The top of his nose was slightly wrinkled, his eyebrows drawn in in his sleep, and Evan was just wondering if maybe Connor was having a bad dream when his mouth popped open.

“Is she gone?”

Evan yelped. He hadn’t expected Connor to be awake, or to be pretending to be asleep, or to talk to him if he ever woke up. It took Evan a moment to remember that Connor was waiting for an answer that Evan still hadn’t given, and he willed his voice not to crack when he said, “Yeah, she left.”

Connor smiled, and Evan had a second to notice that Connor’s teeth were nice, straight and white and slightly translucent at the ends, before he was distracted by the opening of Connor’s eyes. 

Connor Murphy had brown eyes.

Evan hadn’t noticed that before – he’d assumed that Connor’s eyes would be the same as his sister’s, big and blue and beautiful, but they were so much more. Connor’s eyes were brown, the ring around the iris almost the same shade of black as the dark lashes sweeping up towards his eyebrows.

It was surreal to have those eyes focused on him, now. Evan had spent so long feeling intimidated by those eyes, desperately avoiding those eyes – it was crazy, now, to realise how much he’d been missing. 

“Thanks,” Connor said. Evan’s eyes darted down to his lips as he spoke – rosy lips, pink and dry, chapped.

“It’s fine,” Evan said, and then, because he was curious, “why are you avoiding your nurse?”

“She’s not my nurse,” Connor said. He licked his lips, and Evan found that he was struggling not to stare. “She’s a family friend, keeping tabs on me because they can’t.”

“Your family isn’t allowed to see you?” Evan couldn’t imagine being at the hospital without his family. His mother and father weren’t the best, he knew, but he would still feel better if they were there. “Why not?”

“Because I requested that they not be allowed to visit me,” Connor said. He must have seen the question written in the line of Evan’s eyebrows, because he elaborated, “Every bad mother in the world thinks she’s the best mother in the world, and my mother isn’t any different.”

Connor’s mother was bad? Evan hadn’t known – Connor’s sister always seemed so happy, so normal. But then again, Connor didn't seem to be _that_ damaged - not all the time, anyway. Angry at the world, sure – and he was a loner, a stoner, antisocial in that he wouldn't talk to anyone if he could help it.

Connor said, “It’s stupid that she thinks that, though. I mean, if she’s so great, why is this the fourth time I’ve tried to die.”

And that was when Evan noticed it – Connor’s hands, his wrists, bandaged tightly where they lay on the bed. Every inch of the room was empty; there were no scissors, nothing sharp, nothing airtight.

Nothing Connor could try to use to hurt himself again.

Evan didn’t know what to say. “You-”

“There’s no point keeping it a secret,” Connor said, shrugging. “Everyone’s going to know, eventually. These scars aren’t as easy to hide as the other ones." 

The other ones?

Evan remembered reading pamphlets on self-harm, how it made people feel, and how people often tried to hide it. He remembered Connor, wearing jeans and long-sleeved hoodies even in the summer. The only part of Connor’s skin that Evan had ever seen was on his face – everything else was covered up.

Evan found himself wondering how long Connor had been doing that. Evan had known him since he’d started high school, three years ago – that long? Longer?

Even felt something rough at the back of his through, some knot that only worsened when Connor took his eyes away from Evan’s face and angled them at the door.

“Evan Hansen?” A female voice said. Evan turned, and a nurse was looking at him expectantly from the doorway. “The doctor’s ready for you now.”

“Oh.” Evan glanced back at Connor, who raised an eyebrow as Evan hesitated to leave. “Okay.” He stood up, cradling his broken wrist in his hand as he followed the nurse out the door.

He spared one last look back at Connor, and found those brown eyes following him with interest until he was through the door and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny chapter in which Evan fucks up, then prays to be vored.

It was two weeks before Connor was allowed back to school. Evan walked into class on Monday, and saw Connor at his usual desk, tapping the end of a pen against the table. He looked up when Evan walked through the door, and when their eyes met, Connor winked.

Evan’s hand dipped into his pocket immediately. He pulled out a folded-up piece of paper – he’d thought that maybe a sealed envelope would be overkill – and placed it on Connor’s desk, never breaking stride as he delved deeper into the classroom to where he sat.

Connor didn’t open the letter, but he didn’t throw it away, either.

Evan’s hands were shaking – they’d been shaking as he wrote the letter – and he thought that he must have suffered some sort of spasm of stupidity just seconds before he decided that writing a note to Connor Murphy – Connor Murphy – and placing it on his desk – oh my god – was a good idea.

The only reason Evan hadn’t surged forwards and taken the note back was because, honestly, that would be even more awkward than if Connor straight up rejected him.

He didn’t think the note was that embarrassing, really, but then, he also hadn’t thought that the haircut he’d had in eight grade was embarrassing until his mother had led him by the hand and all but forced him to get it styled differently.

His letter read:

 

_Dear Connor Murphy,_

_Please don’t throw this note away. You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing writing to you, but I had something that I wanted to say and I knew I’d never say it to your face, so we’re just going to have to live with this._

_Can I talk to you? I don’t mean, like, one conversation that you’ll probably forget about after a good night’s sleep. I mean, can we talk? Frequently? To each other?_

_Obviously you don’t have to say yes, I mean, there’s probably a reason you haven’t ever spoken to me before, but if there isn’t , and you’re up for it, I would very much like to – try to? – be your friend._

_Sincerely, me._

 

That last part – _sincerely, me_ – was the hardest part to get right. Evan didn’t want to put his name on there, in case Connor would try to use it against him (a horrible thing to think, really, but Evan didn’t want to risk embarrassing himself further if the whole thing backfired in his face). But then, when he’d thought about it, ‘sincerely, me’ sounded so intimate – and what if Connor didn’t realise that it was from Evan?

But then Evan decided that that was stupid – if he put the note on Connor’s desk himself, then obviously Connor would know who it was from.

And that was how, at the end of class, Evan was chewing on the end of his pen, nervous energy pouring out of him, his leg bouncing arrhythmically under his desk as he prayed that Connor wouldn’t catch him after class and, Evan didn’t know – push him over, or something.

Evan’s heart was in his mouth as he watched the last few seconds of class tick away on the clock. The bell rang as the red hand struck twelve, the end of class, and Evan barely had change to grab his back before Connor was in front of his desk. Connor slammed a scrap of paper down, rattling the metallic beams, before he was stomping off again, disappearing through the classroom door.

Evan was almost afraid to read what Connor had written, but somehow he managed to unfold the paper, his fingers shaking as he read what Connor had written.

  

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Meet me under the bleachers at lunch._

_S_ _incerely, me?_

Evan resisted the urge to curl up and die.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, and now, only one question was surging through his mind – _what the hell do I do now?_

Lunch time came around, and Evan still didn’t have an answer.

So he bailed.

 

Evan shared the last class after lunch with Connor, and when he walked through the door, Connor didn’t look up. Even couldn’t bring himself to look at him – at his sharp, pale face – but as he shuffled towards his seat, he felt eyes burning into his skull.

He chanced a glance at Connor when he was sitting snug between his desk and the wall, but Connor wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were straight ahead, his hand clenched to a fist on his desk.

Evan sank lower in his seat, and wished that the ground would rise up and swallow him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan talks to his therapist, and gets some advice on how to fix what he fucked up

“Hi, honey.”

Connor’s therapist waved a hand at the couch across from the armchair she was curled against. Her knees were tucked up to her chest, toes curled into the fabric of the chair – she always slipped her shoes off when she saw Evan, something he thought she only ever did with him, just to make him feel more at ease. 

Evan took the seat she’d offered him, and for a long moment, refused to look into her eyes.

“Something’s wrong,” the therapist said.

 _She’s a genius,_ Evan thought.

“You’re supposed to talk to me when something’s wrong, honey. How else am I supposed to help you, huh?”

“Sorry,” Evan said. He’d struggled to talk to her, at first, and it was still difficult for him to open up, but he was getting there. “I made a mistake, today,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What sort of mistake?” The therapist didn’t look concerned, only politely interested, and even though Evan knew that that look was only a technique for getting him to relax, it worked. “Nothing that gets said in this room gets past these walls, remember?”

“I remember,” Evan said, nodding his head. “I, um. I think I almost made a friend, but then I messed it up.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. “You do tend to read too much into things and draw conclusions that aren’t really there.”

“I know,” Evan said, “but I don’t think I’m wrong about this.” He sighed, and started fiddling with the tassels of the pillow he’d drawn over his crossed knees.

Evan told her about Connor. He relayed the story as best he could remember, from before he’d seen Connor in the hospital to today, when he’d stood him up and left him alone, under the bleachers.

“Why didn’t you go to him?” She asked, after it became obvious that Evan wasn’t going to fill the long stretch of silence he’d left between them. 

“I was afraid,” Evan said. “He’s… not known for being the nicest person in the world, you know? And- and I wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t live up to that reputation if I went to see him alone.” 

“You thought he might be mean to you?” The therapist asked. “You thought maybe he might do something to you?”

Evan shrugged, “I guess. I know I made a snap judgement, and I feel terrible about it, but- what can I do now? It’s done, it’s too late.”

“Evan,” the therapist sighed, “I think sometimes you don’t realise that you are allowed to mess things up. You made a mistake, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fix it. Find Connor tomorrow, _apologise to him_ , see what happens.”

Evan looked up at her through his lashes, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she said. As she finished the sentence, the timer on the table next to her rang, and Evan jumped. He didn’t know how she managed to time the sessions so that they always finished with satisfaction, but he was grateful that she did.

Evan stood, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as he inched his way towards the door.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him?” She said, as Evan laid his fingertips on the handle.

“I promise,” Evan said, just to see her smile.

She smiled, and said, “I’m proud of you already.”

Evan didn’t even try to hide how good that made him feel.

 

 

Evan’s first class of the next day was with Connor, and he spent the whole two hours thinking of ways to get Connor to stick around long enough for him to apologise.

In the end, he didn’t have to go through with any of his frankly, _terrible_ plans, because when the bell marked the beginning of their fifteen-minute break, Connor was rising out of his seat and moving to stand next to Evan’s.

Evan refused to make eye contact as he stuffed his books back into his bag, and it was only when he stood up and Connor caught hold of his chin that Evan could bring himself to look at Connor’s face.

He used a trick his therapist had taught him to fake eye contact – look at the other person’s eyebrows, instead of their eyes.

“You’re a dick,” Connor said.

Evan sighed. “I know.”

That seemed to take Connor by surprise. His grip on Evan’s chin loosened, and when Evan chanced a look down at Connor's eyes, they were confused, quickly blinking. “You _know_?”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, his eyes refusing to look away from Connor's now that they were there. “I shouldn’t have stood you up. I wish I hadn’t, I- I’m _sorry_.” 

Connor’s hand slipped away from Evan’s chin, and for a moment, he thought Connor was going to walk away from him. His hand darted out, on instinct, to wrap around Connor’s wrist, and Connor laughed.

“Relax, Hansen,” Connor said. He took a step back, and Evan realised that he was only going to take a seat. “I’m not leaving. Unlike _some_ _people_ , I don’t abandon my friends when they clearly want to talk.” 

Evan’s breath caught at the word. “Friends?”

“Isn’t that what we are?” Connor slipped his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a scrap of paper. Even realised, as his eyes fell on the messy, scrawling handwriting, that it was the note he’d given Connor the day before. “That’s what you said you wanted, wasn’t it? To be friends?”

“I- yeah,” Evan said. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. You’re officially my friend. I’ve never had one of those before.”

Evan laughed, nervously. “Me neither.”

“ _Shocker_.” Connor stopped leaning on the table and stood up straight, turning his body towards the door. “Are you coming?”

“Coming where?”

“Outside,” Connor said. “If a teacher catches us loitering in a classroom, we’re _dead_ , and something tells me that you’ve never been in trouble before in your life.”

“I have too,” Evan said, defensively, before realising that getting into trouble wasn’t anything to be proud of. “I mean-”

Connor snorted, “What? Did you forget to hand your homework in on time?” 

Evan said nothing, because Connor was right – that was exactly what he’d gotten into trouble for, and _only_ once, because he’d been so afraid of getting a detention that he’d never forgotten a piece of homework again. Instead of protesting, Evan’s mouth turned into some crumpled, trembling line as he tried his best not to laugh.

He chanced a glance at Connor, and saw that his mouth was stretched into a wide grin. “That’s fucking pathetic, man.”

“Yeah, well, some of us don’t want our permanent records to be an inch thick before we get to college.”

Connor laughed again, and Evan felt the sound deep in his chest, warming him through. “Honestly, at this point I would be _embarrassingly_ disappointed if my permanent record was only an inch thick.”

Evan smiled at that, but made no further comment.

They walked in silence as Connor led Evan through the school’s back door and into the yard, taking him along the path of gravel to the grassy area at the very furthest spot from the school.

“So,” Connor began, when they were safely under the shade of the trees. “You know how _I_ ended up in hospital that day, but what happened to you?”

Evan said, “I broke my arm.”

“No shit,” Connor said, smiling again – Evan was wondering how Connor had managed to carve such a dark reputation for himself if he smiled this much. “I know you broke your arm, dipshit,” Connor said, glancing down at Evan’s cast like it could somehow tell him how Evan turned out so stupid. “I’m asking you _how_.”

“Oh,” Evan felt his face heat up, “um, I fell out of a tree, actually.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “You fell out of a tree?” Evan nodded, and Connor snorted. “That is the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know,” Evan said.

“You seem to know a lot of things,” Connor mused. “Most of them about how awful you are.” 

“I-” 

“If you tell me you know,” Connor said, “I’m leaving you.”

“Okay,” Evan said.

“Okay,” Connor agrees, almost smiling, until he took a closer look Evan’s cast – as white and bare as it had been two weeks ago. “No one’s signed it.”

Evan was going to say ‘I know,’ but Connor’s raised eyebrows stopped him. “No, they haven’t.”

“Well, here,” Connor said. He caught Evan’s broken arm and pulled it towards him, quietly apologising when he heard Evan’s wince of pain. He pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and pulled the lip off with his teeth. “I’ll sign it, and then everyone will know that you have a friend.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.” Connor bent over Evan’s arm, his hair blocking Evan’s view of his cast for a moment. Evan was half excited that someone was finally signing his cast and half afraid that Connor would scrawl the word ‘loser’ or draw a dick or do something even worse, but when Connor pulled back, all Evan saw was an upside-down variation of Connor’s name, the capital letters spanning the entire length of Evan’s forearm. 

“Thanks,” Evan said, drawing his wrist back to his side. Then, before he had the chance to chicken out, he blurted, “Do you want to do something today, after school?”

“What?” Connor’s eyebrows pinched, the empty space between them almost disappearing as he looked at Evan with confusion, as if he wasn’t quite sure why Evan would want to do something like that at all, let alone with him.

Evan was just about to backpedal, to get himself out of it, when Connor said, “ _Like_ what, sorry.”

“We could go for a walk,” Evan said, short-wiring brain quickly grasping at Evan’s favourite thing to do. “Climb some trees?”

“Climb some trees?” Connor grinned, shaking his head. “You broke your arm by falling out of a tree two fucking weeks ago, and now you want to go out and climb some more?”

“I like climbing trees,” Evan said, shrugging, half-apologetic. “And if you come, I’ll have someone to catch me if I fall again.”

Connor looked at Evan for a moment, brown eyes appraising him as his mouth screwed to the side in contemplation. Then, “Fuck it. Okay, yeah. I could go in for some tree-climbing.” 

The bell rang, and when Connor turned to walk back towards the school building, Evan allowed himself to smile.

“But if you fall,” Connor said, not turning back to look at Evan as he spoke, “there is no way in hell that I’m going to be able to catch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't sure if Evan's therapist and his mother were the same person, so for the purposes of this chapter I've separated them, but if I'm wrong, can someone let me know and I'll change it later??
> 
> Also!! I know exactly how many chapters this is going to be, and I have a definitive plan for where this story's headed, so hopefully it won't take me too long to get it finished :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Connor climb a tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how to keep chapter length consistent and i think i may actually be falling in love with these boys way faster than i probably should

At lunchtime, Evan and Connor agreed to meet near Evan’s house at half past four.

Evan was still waiting for Connor at five minutes to five, and the only reason he hadn’t already left was because he was stubbornly holding on to the hope that Connor was just running late, that he’d been caught in traffic, or he’d taken too long with his homework or his chores or his shower or _something_.

Something that meant that Evan hadn’t been stood up.

Denial was another thing that Evan and his therapist had talked about. Evan had an unhealthy habit of convincing himself that things weren’t as bad as they seemed, that problems and tragedies and responsibilities, when they were becoming too much, weren’t actually there at all.

The sun was drawing low in the sky, casting orange light over the curves of the clouds, when Evan saw Connor round the corner.

He was running, his bag bumping against his thigh as his hips jerked from side to side. Evan watched Connor running towards him until Connor was upon him, catching Evan’s uninjured wrist and dragging him along behind him.

“What are you doing?” Evan gasped out, and almost had the breath knocked out of him when Connor turned around with a bright smile, his eyes open and bright when they met Evan’s.

“Making up for lost time.”

They didn’t stop running until they were in a clearing in the woods, a ring of trees framing a patch of grass. In the summer, all sorts of wild flowers grew in the clearing, but now, in late September, the grass was the only thing barely clinging on to its life. 

That grass sort of reminded Evan of Connor.

They collapsed to the ground when they finally stopped, Evan twisting his body to reduce the impact on his injured arm. He somehow managed to fall close enough to Connor that his left foot was between Connor’s knees, his shin trapped beneath Connor’s knee. Connor didn’t seem to mind, though, so Evan left it there – it would probably be more awkward if he tried to pull his leg out from under Connor’s, anyway. 

“Making up for lost time?” Evan gasped out, looking down at Connor with an expression that felt like a smile but probably looked more like an asthma attack. “Care to explain?” 

Connor’s eyes were closed, his face turned towards the last of the sun. The orange light did strange things to the colour of Connor’s face, to the dark shades of his hair. 

He said, “I was running late.”

“I was just about to leave when you got there,” Evan said.

Connor opened his eyes at that, and turned them towards Evan. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he said.

Evan smiled, shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you for coming.”

Connor’s smile fell, then, slowly at first, and then all at once. His face suddenly looked so strange with a frown, now that Evan had seen it with a smile. “I wasn’t going to,” he said. “That’s why I was running late. You stood me up under the bleachers, and I was going to stand you up under the tree.”

Evan blinked. His throat felt dry, all of a sudden, and he wasn’t sure where to look. “Oh.”

“No, _shit_ , don’t look like that,” Connor said. He rolled on to his stomach, rose up to his knees, and Evan didn’t know if Connor knew that their legs were still tangled together, that Connor was now straddling Evan’s thigh. “I’m a vindictive asshole – I always have been. I wanted to hurt you, because you hurt me, but then I realised that that was a stupid thing to want, because we’re friends, and we’re not supposed to hurt each other. Right?”

Connor was looking down at Evan with wide, almost desperate eyes, and Evan wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he followed Jared’s advice and nodded – just nodded. “Right.”

That seemed to be a good thing to say, because Connor smiled, and flopped back down. His leg was still thrown over Evan’s, but now he was lying on his stomach, cheek pressed into the grass where he’d turned his head to look at the side of Evan’s face.

Connor asked, “Is this where it happened?”

Evan didn’t need to ask what Connor meant. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll show you the branch that gave way, later. I can’t be bothered to get up just yet, though.”

“What were you thinking about?” Connor asked. “I mean, you must have been pretty deep in thought if you didn’t even hear the branch begin to break.”

Evan feels discomfort stir in his chest – he’d been asked all of these questions before, though last time, the person asking had sounded far more severe. “It was pretty sudden,” Evan said. “But I was thinking about life, I guess,” Evan said.

“Life, huh?” Connor huffed out a breath, cheeks swelling with the pressure. “That’s a pretty broad topic.”

“I was thinking about my life. What I want to do with it.”

Connor’s interest seemed piqued. “What _do_ you want to do with it?" 

“So many things,” Evan sighed, laughed, some weird mix of the two. “Write a book, bike the Appalachian Trail, learn to sail.”

“Most people probably would have just said get laid.”

Evan laughed, and realised that since he’d been talking to Connor, he’d forgotten to feel self-conscious about his laugh, and his smile, and the crooked tilt of the tooth that had almost been knocked out by a bully in elementary school. He said, “I’d need a girlfriend for that to happen, buddy.”

“A girlfriend?” Connor asked.

“Well, I don’t want a _boyfriend_ ,” Evan said. Connor didn’t say anything for a moment, and when the silence became too much, too suspicious, Evan chanced a glance to his left.

Connor wouldn’t meet Evan’s eyes, and after a second, the reason why dawned on his mind. “Shit, are you gay?”

Connor smiled, and it wasn’t like his other smiles – it was crooked, and nervous. “I am,” he said. His eyes flicked up, and Evan had never seen anyone look so unsure. “Is that a problem?”

He sounded like he really hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Of course it isn’t a problem,” Evan said. “My cousin Jared is gay, we’re all good.”

Connor’s eyebrows dropped at that confession. “Jared Kleinman is your cousin?”

“Well, no,” Evan said, “but his family and my family have been friends for years. We grew up together, so now it’s hard to see him as anything other than an extension of the family, you know?”

“Not really,” Connor said. “My family isn’t big – it’s just my mother, my father, my sister, and me.”

“I’ve always wanted a family like that,” Evan said. “It’s been just me and my mother for ages, ever since my dad left, and between work and school, she’s hardly ever home.”

“My family isn’t close,” Connor said. “Sometimes I think I may as well just live alone. I can’t help feeling that they’re disappointed in me, and I know I’m not the best – or even all that good, most days – but sometimes it feels like they’ve given up on me already, like they’d given up on me before I’d even given them a reason to, you know?” 

Evan didn’t know – that was the worst thing anyone had ever said to him, he actually felt his heart wrench when Connor’s voice broke half way through. Evan knew that, physically, they were close – their shoulders were pressed together, as were their hips, and their legs were still crossed – but Connor somehow seemed so far away from him, just then. Evan wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him like his mother had once held him, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t get his arms to stretch, couldn’t make the words come together correctly, couldn’t think of the perfect thing to say or to do.

So he did the next best thing – e said the first thing that popper into his head.

“That sucks,” Evan said. “That really fucking sucks, Connor.”

“It does,” Connor agreed. “It does fucking suck.” And just like that, Connor was laughing. “That’s exactly what it does, Evan Hansen. It fucking sucks – it fucking _sucks_.”

Connor looked at Evan, still laughing, and then Evan was laughing too, unable to contain himself.

To anyone else, they probably would have looked insane – the two of them sprawled together in the middle of the forest, laughing until they could barely breathe while Connor continued to spout variations of _‘it fucking sucks’_ and _‘it fucking blows’_ and _‘Evan Hansen, it fucking blows’_.

Evan had learned to close his eyes when he laughed when he was seven, because when he laughed really hard, he started to cry, and it used to freak the other kids in his class out. So Evan was laughing with his eyes closed, moisture gathering between his lashes, when Connor Murphy caught him by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

He didn’t know when Connor had stood up.

“Come on,” Connor said.

The sky above them was dark – the darkest shade of blue – and Evan had no idea how it got so late so fast. “What are we doing?” Evan asked.

“You’re showing me your tree,” Connor said, “and then I am going to fucking hug it, to thank it for breaking your arm and bringing you to me.”

“Shouldn’t you technically be thanking that nurse that stuck us in a room together?”

“Technically, probably,” Connor said. “But I really don’t want to have to hug her, so it’s just gonna have to be the tree.”

“Well, okay then,” Evan said, and tugged Connor forwards by the hand that was still gripping his arm. He led Connor to the tallest tree in the clearing – an old oak with some low hanging branches – and gestured vaguely upwards. 

“Here she is, the infamous breaker of arms,” Evan said.

Connor squinted, peering up though the leaves. “Where’s the branch that broke?” He asked. “I can’t see it.”

“It’s up there somewhere,” Evan said. “You probably just can’t see it from this angle.” 

“Probably,” Connor said. And then he reached up into the tree and fisted his hands in some leaves, hauling himself up to a branch.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for your sorry ass to start climbing with me,” Connor said. “Come on, it’s just weird if I do it by myself – you don’t want to make me look weird, do you?”

“I’m pretty sure I make most people look weird just by standing near them – it’s like an airborne infection or something.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I was already sort of weird _before_ I decided that you were worth my time,” Connor said. “Now, get in the fucking tree.”

“I only have one hand,” Evan said, which wasn’t much of an excuse, because with all the practice he’d had over the summer, he could probably climb some of the way up without any hands at all.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Connor said. “I won’t let you fall – I just want to see that broken branch and give it what for.”

“I thought you were going to thank it for delivering me to you,” Evan said.

“I am,” Connor replied. “Right after I scold it for breaking you in the first place.”

Evan snorted and then, because he was an idiot, he started to climb the fucking tree.

He was half way up before he realised that, from this point on, he would probably need two hands. Connor seemed to understand that, too, because as soon as he realised that the gap between them was growing, he started to climb back down the tree.

He threw one leg over a branch, straddling it, and offered Evan a hand to help him do the same. 

“So, where is it?” Connor asked.

“Higher.”

Connor looked over the edge of their branch, at the dizzying height they were already at. “You fell that far and only broke your arm?” He asked. “Hell, you’re lucky you’re alive.” 

Evan shrugged. “That’s what the nurses told me.”

“Damn.” Connor sighed, and glanced back up. “The stars are coming out. Look.” 

Evan didn’t look at the stars – he was too busy looking at Connor. At the shadow of his cheekbones in the moonlight, at the silver sheen the darkness cast over his hair, over his mouth.

“Would you rather.”

Connor looked away from the stars. “Excuse me?” 

“Do you want to play would you rather?”

Connor grinned, “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“It’s a game of hypothetical situations,” Evan said. “What is there to handle?” 

Connor shrugged a shoulder, “You might be surprised. But then, you’ve dealt with me up to this point, so you should be okay with a little game.”

A slow smile crept across Connor’s face, and Evan found himself smiling back. 

He said, “Quickfire. Would you rather live in an eternal night or eternal day?” 

“Eternal night,” Connor said, without a second’s hesitation. “You?”

“Day. Your turn.”

“Would you rather have climbed this tree while risking breaking your other arm, or stayed on the ground without me?”

“I’ve already answered that by doing it,” Evan said. “I climbed the tree.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.”

“I know you know I know,” Connor said, still smiling. “You know lots of things, apparently – except for how this game works. It’s your turn.”

“Would you rather be able to fly, or breathe under water?” 

“Fly,” Connor said. 

“Me too. Why?”

“Nuh uh,” Connor shook his finger at Evan. “It’s my turn. Would you rather have broken your right arm or your left arm?” 

“I’d rather have broken neither,” Evan said. “But left, I guess. That way I could still write.”

“Wait, you didn’t break your dominant hand?” Evan shook his head, and Connor barked a laugh. “Then why was your handwriting so awful in that note you sent me?”

Evan slapped Connor’s shoulder, “Shut up!”

“Make me.”

Evan took that as a challenge, and he slapped his hand over Connor’s mouth. There was less than a seconds hesitation before Evan felt something hot and wet against his hand – Connor’s tongue, laving over Evan’s palm. 

Evan snapped his hand back with a yelp. “Dude, seriously?” His hand was shiny with spit, and he reached out to wipe it off on Connor’s jeans. “That’s disgusting.”

“So is your fashion sense.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t seem to know that nail polish isn’t supposed to be chipped.”

“Hey!” Connor made an exaggeratedly offended face, clutching his hand to his chest. “My nails are an aesthetic statement, and they’re beautiful.”

“Sure they are.”

“They are.”

“I believe that you believe that.” 

“Yeah, you’d better,” Connor said. He was looking at Evan strangely, his head tilted to the side, eyes almost closed as they roamed over Evan’s features, studying his face. 

Evan shrank under the scrutiny. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Connor said. “I was just thinking that, if I’d know you were like _this_ , I probably would have tried to be friends with you sooner.”

Evan smiled, bashfully looking away from Connor’s face. “Me too.”

It was only when his eyes were directed downwards that he noticed the time, and the smile fell abruptly from his face.

“Oh, crap,” he breathed. “I have to go.”

“Go?”

“I have to get home before my mother gets home,” Evan said. He swung away from their branch, lowing himself to the next one down. “Shit, she’s gonna worry about me if I’m late.”

“Hey, slow down,” Connor said. He was climbing down with Evan, slightly faster due to his having the use of both hands, and was already a few steps ahead. “If you keep going this fast, you’re going to fall.” 

“I won’t fall,” Evan said. “I’ve been doing this for years.”

Connor eyed the cast on Evan’s arm with suspicion. “Uh huh.”

“I’m serious,” Evan said, “I’m f- _uh_!”

His foot slipped away from the branch, and for a heart-stopping second, there was nothing beneath him. His heart flew up into his throat, his stomach lurched, and then he was safe again, pressed close to Connor’s chest.

Connor’s face was less worried than smug. “What did I tell you?”

Evan breathed a laugh. “You told me you wouldn’t catch me if I fell.” 

“Yeah, well,” Connor didn’t seem to be able to look Evan in the eye, “maybe you plummeting to your death wouldn’t be such a great thing, after all.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Shut up. Get off me.”

He shoved Evan away, but gently, and when Evan took the next step down, it was with half the speed that he’d been going before. He reached the bottom of the tree without another slip, Connor touching the ground just before him and holding out his hands to steady him when he hopped the last few feet from the lowest branch. 

“Thanks,” Evan said, when Connor slipped his hands against Evan’s waist to steady him.

“No problem,” Connor said, and Evan smiled when he realised that Connor really meant it. 

It hit Evan all at once, then, that he had a friend – that he’d spent a whole afternoon with his first, real friend.

Evan beamed at Connor, who looked at him a little strangely for a moment before he shook his head, huffing out a laugh.

“You’re a weird kid, you know that, Hansen?”

Evan nodded, “I know.” He was looking at Connor, eyes darting all over his face, never settling on an inch for longer than a second. He wanted to take it all in, every arch of bone, every pale freckly, every messy strand of hair. 

Connor Murphy was Evan’s first, real friend, and he was _beautiful_.

“What are you looking at?” Connor asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Come with me,” Evan said.

“What?”

“Come home with me. We could- we could have food, if you’re hungry – I know I am – and- and we could watch a movie! I have loads of great movies that you’ve probably never seen before because, well, you know, you’re-” he waved a hand at Connor’s combat boots, his heavy coat, his nearly-mangled bag, “ _you_ _know_.” 

Connor lifted an eyebrow, “I am?”

“Totally! I mean, unless that’s offensive to you, in which case no, not at all.” 

Connor snorted a laugh. “Nice backpedalling there, Hansen. But yeah, okay. I can put up with a movie, but only for the food.” 

Evan smiled, choosing not to call Connor out on his _blatant_ lie, and turned to lead Connor home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these boys are socially inept idiots and they need help


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys watch a movie and Evan deals with a crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The headcanon that Evan likes Studio Ghibli movies belongs to spibbles.tumblr.com

“Studio Ghibli?”

After a dinner with his mother that Evan was sure had been awkward for everyone, for once, and not just him, Connor was browsing Evan’s DVD collection with a look that fell somewhere between intrigue and utter befuddlement.

“That is the worst way I have ever heard anyone try to pronounce that,” Evan said, “but yes. They’re these animated movies from Japan, and they’re _awesome._ Me and Jared used to watch them all the time when we were kids.”

Connor had dropped to a crouch beside the stack of DVD cases, and his slender fingers had been trailing over the titles for longer than it should probably take anyone to choose a movie. “I think I’ve read the book of this one,” he said, index finger poking precariously at ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’. 

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Evan said. He reached for the disc, then snapped his hand back to his side when his fingers accidentally brushed against Connor’s. “It’s not a lot like the book,” he said, hoping that he didn’t sound as awkward as he thought he did, “but it’s still pretty great.” 

“We’ll watch that one, then.” Connor dipped the tip of finger between the edge of the case and the shelf to pull the movie out. Evan couldn’t stop staring at Connor’s fingers, long and slim, and his nails, bitten short and painted black. Even as Connor handed the case to Evan, he couldn’t look away – not until Connor cleared his throat, his eyebrow quirking up with curiosity when Evan didn’t take the disc immediately out of Connor’s hand. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Evan took the case and distracted himself by taking the disc out of the box and sliding it into the player, sighing heavily when he felt the heat in his cheeks disperse. His blush returned, however, when he turned around to find that Connor was still watching him, eyebrows drawn together at the middle. Evan watched him for a moment, until he started to feel vaguely uncomfortable, his palms growing damp. “Are we gonna watch?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, and just like that, he was normal again. He held a hand out to be helped up, and Evan tried to subtly wipe his sweaty hand off on his leg before wrapping his fingers around Connor’s and hauling him to his feet. 

Connor was heavier than Evan had expected him to be, and as Evan stumbled back a step, Connor lurched forwards. Connor regained his balance by leaning against Evan’s shoulder, one hand bracing against Evan’s chest, and Evan hoped to God that Connor couldn’t feel his heart pounding through his lungs.

“Sorry,” Evan said, placing his hand on Connor’s waist to push him back a step, fingers lingering for a second as he confirmed that Connor was, once again, safely on his feet.

“You apologise a lot,” Connor said. “Even when you haven’t actually done anything wrong.”

“I know,” Evan replied – his therapist was always calling him out on it, telling him not to blame himself for every little thing. 

It was one of his problem areas.

“‘I know’, and, ‘I’m sorry,’” Connor mused. “Your two favourite phrases.”

“They’re not my _favourite_ , they’re just-” Evan caught the look Connor was throwing him and his mouth snapped shut. “Sorry. I mean- sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know, I just- sorry! I’m sorry, I know, I’m just- _ugh!”_

Connor laughed, and gently placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said, softly enough that, for a moment, Evan actually stopped panicking. “Shut up before you hurt yourself, yeah?”

Evan nodded, feeling hot blood spread through his cheeks as Connor’s eyes refused to look away. “Okay.”

With an unreadable grin, Connor twisted past Evan and fell backwards on to the couch, his head on one armrest and his feet dangling loosely over the other.

Evan looked at the sofa, and the complete lack of spaces on which he could sit. “Um, Connor?”

“Evan?” Connor looked up at him like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Is there a problem?” 

“There’s, uh- nowhere for me to sit.”

“Dude, there’s a whole floor right there.”

“Oh, right, okay.”

Evan was just about to lower himself to the ground when Connor groaned.

“Oh, my god,” Connor whined, “I was _kidding_.” He bent his legs at the knees, inviting Evan to sit on the cushion they uncovered. “Sit down.” 

When Evan sat, Connor put his legs back down, and Evan sighed. His body was rigid, for a moment, but then as the heat of Connor’s shins sunk into Evan’s thighs, he started to relax, until he was leaning against the back of the couch more comfortably than he could ever remember sitting there before.

For a moment, it was hard to believe that the two of them had only been friends for a day.

The thought left Evan’s head reeling, and he took a moment to assess the situation. In one day – just over twenty-four hours – he’d had his first fight with a friend he hadn’t even made yet, apologised to said friend for being an idiot, talked to him about things that Evan had never thought he’d be able to talk about with anyone, and now, the aforementioned friend was lying on top of him while they watched one of Evan’s favourite movies together.

If Evan had had any experience with friendship at all before then, he might have thought that they were moving too fast. But Evan didn’t have any prior experience with friendships, or how they worked, and so he was comfortable to just sit, and watch. He watched the way that Connor’s hair stirred when he breathed, the way his nose wrinkled when a strand of hair fell into his face, the way his slim fingers brushed the hair back behind his ear, away from his eyes. 

Brown eyes. Why did Evan have to love brown eyes? They were the best kind of eyes – brown eyed puppies were the sweetest, brown eyed people were the kindest. His mother had brown eyes, his therapist had brown eyes, _Connor_ had brown eyes.

Well, Connor wasn’t exactly _kind_ , but he _was_ Evan’s friend, and Evan already knew that he was going to think the world of Connor for the rest of their lives, or at least until he managed to fuck it all up.

And it was then that Evan realised why he felt that they were moving too fast – because with everyone else, Evan could barely move at all.

_I’ve learned to slam on the brake, before I even turn the key, before I make the mistake, before I lead with the worst of me._

He’d completely forgotten to hide himself from Connor. He’d forgotten to check what he said, to hold his tongue when he wasn’t sure that what he wanted to say was just right, _perfect_. He’d laughed – _oh, God_ – he’d laughed and he’d smiled and Connor had seen it all and- 

And he was still there.

Connor was still there, sitting in Evan’s living room with his feet in Evan’s lap, his face crushed against the armrest of Evan’s couch, his eyes pointed lazily at Evan’s television screen.

Except, Connor’s eyes weren’t pointed at Evan’s television screen at all – Connor’s eyes were on Evan, watching him, his eyebrows lifted in a question that Evan hadn’t even heard.

“What?”

Connor frowned. He shifted, and was suddenly closer to Evan than he could pretend to be comfortable with, the stray wisps of Connor’s hair brushing against the curve of Evan’s cheek. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m- fine. Yeah, absolutely fine. Perfect, even, or- great, fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Connor lifted his hand, as if he were going to check Evan’s temperature, but when Evan involuntarily flinched back, Connor thought better of it and put his hand back down on his thigh.

The dejected look in his eyes made Evan hate himself – he hated that he was so awkward, that he never knew how to act, what to say or do or think to get people to like him.

But- Connor liked him, didn’t he?

Evan didn’t even know what he’d done to make Connor like him, tolerate him, _pity_ _him_ enough to spend the best part of a day listening to him rambling on. Evan hadn’t been thinking about it, he hadn’t made any effort, he’d just-

He was just being himself.

Evan had a silent moment where he resented his therapist for being right all the time before he shook his head and flashed Connor the most realistic smile he could gather.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just got lost in my head for a minute, there. Do you still want to watch the movie?”

“After everything I’ve heard about it, I am _dying_ to see this movie,” Connor said. He did something with his eyes when he said the word ‘dying,’ as if there was something more to what he was saying, and it took Evan a minute to realise what it was. 

“ _Oh_.” Evan laughed, a little cautiously. “Okay.” He stretched to the side for the remote, and when he turned back, Connor was still watching him, eyes narrowed in an expression that Evan couldn’t read – it was a look he’d never seen before. “Okay.”

And he pressed play.

 

 

Evan fell asleep before the movie finished, and when he woke up, Connor was gone.

He had a moment of panic as his head was filled with all the things that could have gone wrong.

Evan’s mother could have come home early and ambushed Connor into conversation; the Murphy’s could have realised where Connor was, disapproved, and taken him away; Connor could have been kidnapped and Evan was the last person he’d been seen with so Evan would get pinned for the murder of the first friend he’d ever actually made and- 

Evan forced himself to take a breath, to not panic, to assess the situation in the realistic fashion that Jared was constantly nagging at him to do.

Evan was wrapped in a blanket that he didn’t remember grabbing, and he didn’t think that kidnappers would be so kind as to keep him warm, so Connor probably hadn’t been abducted by a drug dealer or the mafia whoever it was that Connor usually hung out with. There was also something wet and uncomfortable on Evan’s face, and he didn’t think that his mother would leave him lying in the living room with something wet and uncomfortable on his face, so it probably wasn’t that option, either.

Even reached up, and found a scrap of paper stuck to his forehead. It quickly eliminated the final option – evil parents – and left Even with the realistic conclusion that he probably should have jumped to, first as last.

Connor wrote:

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Thanks for the movie, it was actually pretty good. We’ll have to watch another one sometime – and then I can show you some of my favourite movies, which are,_ you know _._

_You also looked fucking freezing when I left, so I put a blanket on you, because I’ve never had a friend before and I don’t want him to die of hypothermia because he’s stupid enough to fall asleep without a blanket in the middle of fucking September._

_Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I left, and that I wasn’t kidnapped from your house or anything, because I feel like that’s totally the kind of stupid fucking thing you would worry about._

_Sincerely, me._  

Evan sighed, crisis averted, until he remembered that he had a second crisis – a worse crisis – to deal with. 

Evan ran upstairs and opened his journal to the next clean page, knocking over a pot of pens in his haste to grab one. He ripped the cap off and tossed it to the side, not taking note of where it landed, and started to write. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan writes a letter to himself, and Jared earns a dollar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared Kleinman is so hard (hard?) to write omg

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why._

_I’ve been friends with Connor Murphy for almost a week now, and so far, it’s been good._

_He still laughs at me when I say weird things, and I don’t always understand his jokes, but I think he gets me and, slowly, I’m starting to get him, too._

_He’s had it rough – though, I guess I should have guessed that from the multiple suicide attempts. He’s so flippant about it that I think I’ve started to think of them in the same way. Like, Connor will just roll on to his back and say that, today, he really wishes the suicide attempts hadn’t failed. And, at first, I got worried, you know? Sometimes I want to ask him why, but I never do – if he wants to tell me, he’ll tell me. I’ve worked out something else to do, to help him, in the meantime – I just nod along in agreement, and shuffle a couple inches closer._

_I don’t actually know where the closeness came from. Ever since that first night (I told you about it – he practically sat on me while we watched a movie) he’s been all over me. I did a little research, and it said that people can become physically affectionate with friends if they had an emotionally starved childhood._

_If there’s one thing Connor’s had, it’s an emotionally starved childhood. He’s told me about his mother, about how she ignores him, about how she doesn’t seem to know who he is – like, Connor will say he doesn’t want to do something, and instead of asking him why, his mother just shuts him down. And his father- Connor still hasn’t told me about his father, but I know that, whatever it is Connor’s keeping to himself, it’s bad._

_He likes his sister, though. He doesn’t talk about her a lot, but when he does, there’s this protective flare in his eyes, like he’d give anything to keep her safe, and smiling. She’s one of the few things I’ve heard him get excited about. He likes books – the really old, Bronte Dickens Salinger kind – which surprised me, and he talks a lot about getting out of the states, travelling the world. It was hard, when I listened to him talking like that, to know how he was failing at school, how he had been held back that one year. But then I realised it was because no one else had heard him talk like this – no one but me had seen him at his best, with his eyes alight with intelligence, his temper (which still makes its appearances) dampened by the waterfall of words spilling out of him like a broken dam._

_I wondered if he had so many words inside of him because, until I came along, he didn’t have anyone to talk to._

_I think he and I may be more alike than I thought._

_We were both lonely, we both had no one to talk to. I had Jared, and my mom, and he had his family, of course – but we couldn’t open up to them. I couldn’t talk to Jared about politics, or art, or music; I couldn’t talk to my mother about drinking and drugs and sex._

_I can talk to Connor about anything._

_I’ve only known him for a week, I know, but I’ve already decided (realised?) that he’s the best friend I am ever going to have. I’ve seen friendship on TV, clunky and awkward at first – we never had that. As soon as he started talking,_ really _talking to me, we just clicked._

_All I have to do now is make sure he cares about me enough that, when I inevitably screw it all up, he doesn’t just turn tail and run._

_Sincerely, Me_

 

Evan had just set his pen down on the side of his dresser when he heard quiet footsteps progressing down the hall. He quickly shut the cover of his scrapbook, tucking it to the side just seconds before Jared Kleinman’s bespectacled face poked through his door.

“Hey, Tarzan,” he said. “Fall out of any more trees, recently?”

As Jared cackled to himself, Evan thought about Connor, catching him around the waist when the branch he was on gave way. “Yeah,” he said.

“You _did_?” Jared’s face was alight with silent, mocking laughter. “Dude, what’s wrong with you, seriously?”

“We were going to see where it happened,” Evan said. 

“Hold on,” Jared took a seat on Evan’s bed, one leg tucked under the other, which hung swinging over the side. “You not only fell out of another tree,” he paced out, “you fell out of the _same_ tree that you originally fell out of?”

Evan nodded, “Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, that is pathetic. You-” Jared froze, his eyes zeroing in on Evan’s with a look like confusion and outrage. Evan winced, knowing exactly what was coming when Jared said, “We?”

“Uh, yeah.” Evan felt his palms grow damp, which made him nervous, even though there was actually no chance in _hell_ that Jared would attempt to hold his hand. “I made- well, I mean I _found-_ sort of a _-_ I- _I made a new friend_.”

“You made a _friend_?" Jared gaped. "Since when do you know how to make friends?”

Evan shrugged.

“Great. So, who is it? Do they go to our school? It’s not Zoe Murphy, is it, because I’m all about the dick but _damn_ if she’s not on somebody’s fucket list.”

“Jared, that’s horrible,” Evan sighed. “And no, it’s not Zoe Murphy, it’s-” Evan mumbled the last part, under his breath.

“What?” Jared asked. “I’m sorry, you were mumbling, so what I heard was ‘ it’s not Zoe Murphy, it’s her brother,’ which I know can’t be true, because Connor Murphy’s a fucking-”

“It’s Connor Murphy,” Evan said, “and I like him.”

“Oh, you _like him_ , do you? Well, Evan, as much as I agree that it is definitely about time you grew a sense of humour, this is not the best prank you could have pulled with the, admittedly few, resources you had.”

“I’m not kidding,” Evan said. “I’m friends with Connor Murphy. I have been for, uh, just over a week, now, actually. Or three weeks, if you count the first day, which I don’t, but you might want to if-” 

Evan stopped. He’d made the mistake of glancing to the side, at the scrapbook of letters he’d written to himself, three times. Jared noticed, too, and a second later, the book was in his hands.

Jared flicked to the last page in the book and worked his way forwards. He read through the letters with surprising speed, muttering things like “ _no_ ,” and “ _oh my god_ ,” and, for some reason, “ _kinky_ ,” as he flicked through the notes.

When he was finished, he placed the book in his lap and laid his arms on top of it. “So,” he said, “you’re super gay for Connor Murphy, huh?”

Evan rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

“I will stop talking,” Jared said, “for twenty bucks.”

“I don’t have twenty bucks.”

“Then you’re just going to have to deal with me.” Jared grinned, mischief dancing at the edges of his smile. “And listen to me tell you about how gay you are.” 

“I’m not gay.”

“Evan, those letters were not the work of a straight man, _trust me_.” He patted Evan’s shoulder, and when Evan flinched away, Jared sighed. “Is this an internalised homophobia thing? Because if it is, I promise you, there is _nothing wrong_ with being gay.” 

“I’m not gay – I like girls, remember?”

“How could I forget? You practically broke my heart the day you told me that. But, enough about me – you like girls, and that’s okay,” Jared said. His voice was softer than Evan had ever heard it, almost- comforting? “You can like girls _and_ boys, dude. You can like anything in the world, no judgement. No one’s trying to make you choose.”

“But I’ve never liked boys,” Evan said. “I don’t like you.”

“Rude.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. You’re gay exclusively for one guy. There’s a whole lot of homosexual love in you for Connor Murphy. God, I wish I’d know about this sooner.” 

“Are you sure it’s not just platonic love? Love between friends is a thing, right?”

“Oh, no. No. Not like this it isn’t. I mean, can you tell whether you like him in a different way to, say, me?”

“Well, yeah, it’s different. But that’s because you and me are only family friends, whereas Connor and me are _real_ friends, right?”

Jared dropped his head into his hands, “Oh my god.”

Evan took advantage of Jared’s lost focus and slipped his scrapbook out from under his elbows, closing it and tucking it into his bedside table, stowed safely away from prying eyes.

Evan wasn’t gay – Jared didn’t know what he was talking about. Evan liked Connor, of course he did – he was Evan’s first friend, and he was funny, and he didn’t make a weird face when Evan said something awkward. And Evan could recognise that Connor was beautiful, in that angular, elfish sort of way. And they did act closer than some of the people Evan had seen around school – Connor would sling an arm over Evan’s shoulders when they were walking, or catch him around the waist and pull him closer when Evan was shrinking away, or-

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jared asked.

Evan wasn’t sure that he’d be able to lie, so slowly, he nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Evan shook his head, “No.” 

“Oh, thank God.” Jared sighed, the tension in his frame dropping fluidly out of him. “I’m terrible at this sort of stuff, anyway.”

“Why would you offer if you didn’t want me to say yes?”

“Because my mother raised me to have manners,” Jared said.

“Your mother raised you to accept money as motivation to form friendships,” Evan snarked. “How much did she pay you to come up here today?”

Jared grumbled before admitting, “A dollar.” 

“Only a dollar?” Evan asked. “You’re getting cheap.”

“It’s what I’ve been reduced to,” he said. “Prom is in two months, remember?”

Evan snorted. “You’re going to the prom? You hate prom.”

“I don’t hate prom.”

“You told me that the attendees of any high school dance could be split into two, equal groups – those who hadn’t excavated themselves from the unachievable fantasies planted in their heads by Disney, and those who got dragged along for the show.” 

“I would _never_ -” 

“Who is he?”

“Sam Martin,” Jared said.

“Track star?” 

“Ignoring my surprise that you actually know who Sam Martin is,” Jared said, “yes. Him.” 

“How?”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Jared let out a manic laugh. “I have no idea! I didn’t even know he was gay until-”

Evan nodded him on. If there was one thing he could talk with Jared about, it was Jared’s many, _many_ flings. “Until?” 

“Well, you know. _Until_.” Evan didn’t comprehend, and Jared sighed. “Oh, for the love of god, Evan, until he dragged me to the back of the boy’s locker room and pushed me to my knees.”

“ _Oh my god!”_

“I tried to spare you. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

“You couldn’t have tried harder?”

“Harder?” 

“Ohmygod, stop. Shut up. Get out of my house.”

Jared cackled, and Evan buried his burning face in his hands. “Please, for the love of God,” Evan said, his voice muffled by his hands, “never mention your sexual exploits in front of me again. You’re a horrible person,” Evan said. “I mean it. You’re terrible, and I hate you and I will never look you in the eye again and-”

“Okay, I get it, I’ll shut up.”

Slowly, Evan moved his hands away from his face, and he found Jared with his head buried in a book. He often studied with Evan when his family visited, Evan helping Jared with English and Jared helping Evan with Maths and Science - his brain had never really been able to click with numbers. 

Today was Chemistry, and as Jared flicked through the pages of the book, Evan inched closer to read over what he was trying to explain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has a bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of philosophy revision today, so to reward myself, I wrote a chapter for my sons!!!

When Evan woke up, his head was pounding. A rhythmical tap tap tap that would have been catchy if it weren’t so odious, loud… _glassy?_ Evan sat up, and thought- the tapping smacking slapping sound wasn’t his head – it was his window. 

Evan’s head was still clouded by the delirium of sleep, and he blamed that state of mind when he didn’t pause to tug on a pair of pyjama bottoms. Besides, it wasn’t like he was naked – in undershorts and a t-shirt, he was dressed enough to be considered a decent, law-abiding citizen in most states, and this was his _bedroom_ ; it was the only place in the world he felt comfortable enough to prance around in his underwear, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take advantage of that. The floor was cold against Evan’s bare feet, and he squirmed as he trudged across the room to the window; he was still wincing when he threw aside the drapes to reveal what was making such a racket on the other side.

Connor Murphy was sat on Evan Hansen’s garage roof.

Since his talk with Jared, the thought of seeing Connor again had filled Evan with dread – he didn’t know how he would act, if it would be obvious to Connor that Evan had thought about kissing him, about dating him, about – god help him – taking him to _prom_.

If there was one thing Jared Kleinman could do, it was make Evan think about really weird things.

Evan hadn’t had a crush on anyone in years, and even then, he’d never attempted to _talk_ to any of them. He knew from years of traumatic experience that when he was nervous, things got ugly (well, ugli _er_ ). 

A particularly scarring example had been in fifth grade, when Evan had attempted to make friends with a boy in his class – Anthony Peralta. His plan had been to discuss the release of the latest Star Trek movie, and perhaps build a friendship on the mutual love of Montgomery Scott, but when he’d mentioned the film, Anthony had looked at him dumb – apparently, Star Trek wasn’t as popular among ten-year-olds as Evan had thought.

After that, Evan had been left stranded in a conversation that was not working out the way he had hoped – needless to say, he’d panicked. He ended up summarising the entire plot of Star Trek in the space of about three breaths, and when Anthony had raised a mildly disgusted eyebrow, Evan had blushed right down to his neck.

The story was all over the class by the end of the day, and Evan had heard Anthony and his girlfriend, Rachael, talking about him behind the cafeteria when Evan was wandering around the grounds. Rachael had suggested that Evan _liked_ Anthony, and Anthony’s response had been to express disgust over Evan’s face, hair, weight and fashion sense – not to mention his demeanour, so awkward, so _lame_.

Evan had cried over that for weeks. 

Why was why he absolutely could not _ever_ - 

“Evan?” 

Connor snapped his fingers in front of Evan’s face, and with a splutter of short blinks, Evan was back in the room.

Connor Murphy was sat outside Evan’s bedroom window, head cocked slightly to the side, his coat blowing wildly in the wind. The late night air, crisp and cold, swirled into Evan’s room, but he didn’t shiver. Connor’s hair was wet, twisting into loose curls; Evan noted that it wasn’t raining outside, and that the roof under Connor’s feet wasn’t wet. Another gust of wind had Evan stepping out of the way, subsequently letting Connor duck into the room. Evan almost-gasped as Connor brushed against him; he smelled of sweat and smoke.

Evan recognised the scent – he’d noticed it at school, towards the back of the yard, and in the locker room showers, near the vents. He’d smelled it on Connor, too, when they passed each other in the halls, and-

Evan gaped at the back of Connor’s head. “Are you _high_?”

Connor nodded, “Little bit.” He turned around, the movement too quick, too sudden. Evan could just barely see that Connor’s eyes were too wide, too frantic, too red. His hand was close to his mouth, his teeth gnawing absently at his thumb. “I- Evan?”

“Yeah?” Evan didn’t know what to do – he didn’t know what drugs Connor did, and he certainly didn’t know what they did to him. “Connor, are you-?”

Evan didn’t get to finish, because before he could, Connor was on him. Connor was taller than Evan, and it was awkward to have his head resting on Evan’s shoulder, his arms around his chest, his knee between Evan’s thighs.

As soon as Evan realised that what Connor had initiated was a hug, and not some form of attack, he put his arms around Connor’s waist. Evan vaguely remembered how to hug people from before he’d started wriggling away from his mother, and if he was awkward and stiff from lack of practice, Connor didn’t seem to mind. Evan carefully ran a hand up Connor’s back, swept his hair from between their faces and tucked it behind his ear – by then, the moisture was already soaking through the shoulder of his shirt. 

Connor’s hair was wet, so Evan couldn’t be sure that Connor was crying, but there was something about the jagged shake of Connor’s chest as he breathed, and the tight grip his fingers had on the back of Evan’s shirt, that made him think that Connor really, _really_ needed a hug right now.

“Hey,” Evan said. He remembered being young, and vulnerable, and scared – his mother would speak to him in a soft voice, and place her hand on the back of his neck. Evan slid his hand under Connor’s hair, doing the same – the back of Connor’s neck was cold, or it might have been that Evan’s hands were hot, and sweating, and- oh, God, what if Connor thought his sweaty hands were gross? 

Connor’s fists tightened in Evan’s shirt, and he tugged him closer. Evan had to readjust his stance to stay upright, and he was painfully aware of Connor’s hips pressed against his own.

Evan wanted to shake himself – now was _not the time_. Ignoring the blush sinking under his collar, Evan asked, “What happened?”

“ _I_ did,” Connor said. His face was wet where it moved against Evan’s neck, cold and hard. He said, “I keep fucking shit up, and just when I think I’m starting to get back on track, I fuck it all up all over again.”

Evan frowned. “What do you mean?” He wanted to push Connor back, to look into his eyes and read his expression, but he couldn’t – he wouldn’t do that, anyway – not now. “What did you do, Connor?”

He said, “I hurt her.”

Evan’s hand, which had been drawing swirling shapes against the back of Connor’s neck, stilled. “Hurt who?”

Connor pulled away from Evan’s grasp. His movements were fast again, furious. “Zoe,” he snarled, and Evan almost took a step back as Connor tore his hands through his hair. He fisted his fingers against the back of his skull, yanking on the strands between his fingers in a way that _had_ to hurt – Evan wondered if that was the point.

“Zoe?” Connor’s younger sister – he spoke about her a lot. Evan knew that Connor used to hit her. He knew that Connor wasn’t proud of it, that he hated himself for it – that he hadn’t stopped doing it. “What did you do to Zoe, Connor?”

“I got high,” Connor said. “And I knew that I shouldn’t, I _knew_ that I couldn’t control myself if I got high, but I did it anyway, and then-” he shook his head. “The next thing I know, I’m pounding on her bedroom door, and she’s on the other side, and she’s crying and she’s screaming and- and I-”

Evan stared at Connor. He had never seen him this way before – for the first time in a long time, he could see why so many people were afraid of Connor, why people called him ‘psycho’ and ‘weirdo’ and ‘freak’ in the halls.

Connor was shaking, his hands hanging limp at his sides, his eyes bloodshot and damp.

“What did you do?” Evan asked, his voice the softest he could make it – it still sounded too loud against his room. He didn’t want to push Connor but- but he had to know.

“I left,” Connor said. “I stopped hitting her door, and I walked away. I- I didn’t know where I was going until I was here, and I realise now that,” he gave a shaky laugh, “it’s the middle of the night, and you were probably asleep, and I should _go_ -”

“No,” Evan said. He caught Connor’s wrist before he could make to leave. “Stay?” He realised that it sounded like a question, like a suggestion, and Evan cleared his throat before trying again. “Stay.” 

Connor blinked, frowning softly as his brown eyes met Evan’s. “You want me to stay?” 

Evan nodded, “Yes.” He took care to say it evenly, to maintain eye contact as he did – he didn’t want Connor to think that Evan was worried he would wander the streets until dawn or, worse, go back home, to Zoe. 

It wasn’t that Evan didn’t trust Connor – Evan just didn’t trust the drugs. And, while Connor on drugs was something that Evan was entirely unfamiliar with, Evan knew that he didn’t like it, and that if he could help it, he would like very much to never have to see it again.

“Come on,” Evan said. He tugged Connor towards his bed. “My mom won’t mind if you stay here tonight, and- I don’t want you walking home this late.”

He let go of Connor’s hand to close the window, and when he turned around, Connor had stepped out of his boots and was shrugging off his jacket. He crawled into Evan’s bed, pressing himself as tightly to the wall as he physically could.

“Do you want something to drink?” Evan asked. He only asked because that was what his mother always asked whenever _she_ had visitors over, and because it seemed like something Evan _should_ ask, to be a good host.

Connor shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Okay,” Evan said. He didn’t have anything else to say, so he didn’t try to think of anything. He just turned, heels squeaking on the laminated floor, and started towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

Evan turned back to Connor, who had sat up in bed, and looked terribly confused. His hair was drier than it had been, and was falling about his face, the messy curls framing the slight flush of his cheeks. His eyes were wide and dark, reflecting the light of the hall, and he looked the most vulnerable Evan had ever seen him.

Evan felt his mind go numb. “I’m going to sleep downstairs,” he said, slowly, in case Connor was having difficulty processing words – like Evan said, he didn’t really know what drugs did. “On the sofa.” 

Connor frowned. “Do you have to? I mean- could you stay here, instead?”

“Here?” Evan asked. He looked at the bed, at the Evan-sized space Connor had left between himself and the edge, and realised that Connor had intended for Evan to share it with him. “With you?”

“Do you mind?”

“No,” Evan said. He spoke to quickly, he knew, and he scrambled to fix it. “No, no, I don’t mind.” He could feel his face heating up, and he thanked the stars that it was dark enough that Connor probably wouldn’t see. “Why would I mind?”

He was just moving towards the bed when he realised that he slept in his underwear, and that he’d been standing in front of Connor – hugging Connor – while wearing nothing but his t-shirt and some pants.

“Do you want me to, uh,” Evan glanced down at himself, “get dressed, first?” 

Connor flicked the bed sheets to the side. “Get into the bed, Hansen,” Connor said, sounding impatient but amused. “I’m tired.”

Evan complied, and it was only when he was tucked under the covers, Connor’s narrow chest just a few inches from his own, that he started to worry that the morning could be very awkward for both of them for an innumerable list of reasons. 

What if Connor was too high to remember any of this in the morning? Evan didn’t have a clue how he was going to explain it. Was it taking advantage of Connor’s vulnerable state to share a bed with him, when he had some kind of weird crush on him, while Connor was inebriated? Or was it responsible to keep an eye on him overnight, just in case?

What if Evan’s mother decided to look in on him when she got home from class, she would find him tucked up in bed with a boy?

What if Evan was a phantom sleep-cuddler, and he somehow managed to wrap himself around Connor in the night? What if he talked in his sleep, and had an embarrassing dream, and Connor heard it all? What if he droo-?

Beside him, Connor shifted over with a groan. “Shut up,” he said.

"I didn't say anything."

“You were worrying," Connor said. "I could _feel_ your anxiety  _fermenting_  inside you. Just go to sleep.”

“ _I’m going_ ,” Evan said, trying to sound indignant through his smile. Connor harrumphed, and Evan inched closer to his warmth.

Evan was well aware that people thought his anxiety was silly, and he agreed with them - he knew that he had nothing to worry about, but that still didn’t keep him from feeling that something was going to go wrong anyway. His mind kept jumping to the worst-case scenario, telling Evan that there were things he couldn’t do just _because_ – it was annoying as all fuck, especially in situations like these, when all Evan wanted was to be calm and cool and perfect. He wanted Connor to like him, to see him as more than an anxious pool of doubt and nonexistent setbacks.

After five minutes of listening to Connor breathe, his nose whistling slightly, Evan didn't think he would ever be able to relax again.

Eventually, though, Connor's breathing evened out. He fell asleep quickly and completely, and Evan sighed in a way that took his whole body with it. Finally able to close his eyes, Evan shifted to a more comfortable position, his leg bent closer to Connor's than he would have dared to go if Connor had been awake. After five minutes, Evan was asleep as well, his relaxing body pushing itself (of its own accord) into the space left between Connor's body and his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, would anyone actually be interested in an awkward gay morning-after scene, or is that too overdone?? Let me know what you guys want ;D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward gay morning-after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID THE THING!!!!!!!!!

Evan’s eyes slipped open, and for a moment, he didn’t know quite where he was. He recognised his room, of course: the blue walls and the white sheets and the black spot of damp that he hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet. But there was something off about it – something in the air, something charged and altogether different.

Evan sighed, and rolled to the side – only, he didn’t, because he _couldn’t_. Something wrapped around his waist was stopping him, pinning him in place like a mouse under the claws of a hungry cat. Evan looked down, and saw the familiar dark grey sleeve of a hoodie folded over him, a pale hand disappearing under the fabric of Evan’s shirt, scarred fingertips pressed against his skin.

Connor was in his bed, holding him while he slept.

 _Okay_ , Evan thought. _No need to freak out. This is okay_.

This was really not okay.

Evan closed his eyes to avoid staring at Connor’s arm, thin and strong and tucked against him like the seatbelt on a rollercoaster, absolutely useless at easing the minds of those riding on it. He was suddenly all too aware of Connor’s presence – his knees tucked against the backs of Evan’s own, his long hair falling onto Evan’s shoulder from where his forehead was pressed against the nape of Evan’s neck.

What was he going to do?

“You’re awake.”

Connor’s mouth moved against the back of Evan’s neck, his breath curling over Evan’s skin, lazy and slow.

Evan’s answer was a startled squeak, followed by a quick nod. Connor laughed, and Evan felt the shift of his mouth as he smiled with such clarity that he thought the memory of it would never leave his mind.

Evan needed to get away from this, right now. He tapped Connor’s arm, and when he lifted it away, Evan turned himself around.

And that was _so_ _much_ worse.

 _Evan, you absolute idiot,_ he thought, as he settled on his other side and realised that he had brought them even closer together. Connor’s face was so close that Evan could hardly see anything but his eyes, tired and brown and heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Evan said, “How long have you been awake?”

“About ten minutes,” Connor answered. He was looking at Evan’s mouth rather than at his eyes, and Evan wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I was just about to sneak out when you woke up.”

Evan frowned, “You were going to sneak out?”

Connor shrugged. “Your mom came back some time around three, and I didn’t want to risk running into her if I went downstairs.”

“Oh.” Evan was glad – he really didn’t want to have to explain Connor’s presence to his mother. “So you were just gonna climb back out the window?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He smiled, and when Evan’s eyes darted down, he found that he couldn’t drag them back up again. Connor licked his lips, and Evan suppressed a shudder.

They were in a similar position to last night’s hug – Connor’s knees pressed against Evan’s, Evan’s arms trapped awkwardly between them. Evan was making an effort to distance his face from Connor’s, but even then, their foreheads were mere inches apart. Their breaths mingled between them, chilling Evan’s skin, which he was sure would be beet-red in seconds, if it wasn’t already.

Connor was looking at Evan’s mouth, and Evan was looking at anything but Connor’s. His face looked warm, his pale skin adopting a healthy glow around the tops of his cheeks. His eyelashes cast jagged shadows over his eyelids, and they twitched when Connor blinked, when he looked around.

His eyes met Evan’s with purpose, and Evan swallowed hard when Connor’s mouth popped open, just a bit.

He said, “Do you want some breakfast?”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, uh-” Evan looked at a chip in the paint on the wall behind Connor’s shoulder. “We have cereal, and toast, and, uh- coffee? You like coffee, right? I don’t think we have any tea, but I can go get some if you-”

“Evan.”

Evan’s mouth snapped shut, the back of his neck prickling with heat.

“I like coffee. Come on,” he pushed the quilt away from himself and sat up. Evan waited for Connor to climb out over him before rolling out of the bed himself, almost tripping over a discarded shoe on his way to the door.

It felt strange to follow Connor around his house – there was that sense of not-quite-right again, a feeling that made Evan’s stomach squirm as Connor tossed a smile over his shoulder as he led Evan through to the kitchen.

“You got a coffee machine?” Connor asked. He was more familiar with the downstairs of Evan’s house, and he rifled through the cupboard to find a mug.

“No,” Evan said. While Connor grabbed the mugs, he filled the kettle and put it to boil. “Just instant. Is that okay?”

Connor looked at him, and for a moment, Evan was afraid that Connor would say no, it wasn’t okay. But then he shrugged, and said, “Whatever, I don’t care.”

Evan sighed, a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and watched as Connor tossed a spoon of coffee into each of their mugs and two scoops of sugar into one of them.

Evan thought it was weird that Connor knew how he liked his coffee – he didn’t think he’d ever said – but he didn’t mention it. Evan suddenly felt over exposed, awkward – he didn’t know if he should be saying something.

No homo? But then, it sort of was – at least for Evan.

Connor was looking down at his feet, wriggling in his socks. He wore odd socks – it was the only colour he ever wore. The one sock was a dark shade of grey with blue stripes, and the other was all black, except for the toes, which were yellow. He tapped his toes against the kitchen tiles, a rhythm Evan didn’t recognise.

Evan was just about to say something – he wasn’t quite sure what, but it would probably be something stupid, about the weather or homework or something equally limp – when Connor’s phone rang.

His ringtone was usually an eerie, whistling melody, but today his phone was on silent, so it merely buzzed thrice in his pocket before he picked it up.

“Zo’?”

He looked apologetically at Evan before leaving the room. Evan could still sort of hear what was going on – he didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was hard to ignore a conversation that was going on right next door – so he busied himself with finishing the coffee.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Evan winced. He didn’t suppose the answer to that would be particularly pleasant for either of them – Connor or Zoe.

“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot.”

Evan smiled – true.

“No, I’m not being sarcastic.”

“Why would I think that?”

“I’m at a friends house.”

Evan felt himself blush at that. Obviously, he knew that he and Connor were friends, but it was still nice to hear someone say it out loud. His friendship with Jared had always been unspoken, something they’d both accepted as an unchangeable truth, but with Connor… it wasn’t unchangeable, it wasn’t forced, but it was real, and what made it even more real was that Connor felt no shame at admitting it. 

Connor sounded aghast. “I do too have friends.”

“Fuck you.”

“You can’t respond to a fuck you with a fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

Evan snorted. He liked the way Connor talked to Zoe, irritated but amused. He knew that their relationship had been strained, that Connor was by no means a perfect brother, but Connor loved Zoe, and it was so easy to tell just by the way he spoke to her.

“Yeah, tell her what you like, I don’t give a shit." 

“No, you can’t tell her that!”

“Yes, I know I said to tell her what you like, but I didn’t mean _that_!”

“Yes, I’m a horrible person. I deserve the wrath of God but please, don’t do that to me!”

“Don’t hang up on me!” 

“Zoe, please!” 

“Fuck!”

Evan frowned – that didn’t sound good. He picked up the mugs and nudged the kitchen door open with his hip. Connor took a cup, silently, and held it close to his face, his sleeves protecting his hands from the heat.

“I’m guessing you heard that,” he said, after a moment of silence.

Evan nodded. “I tried not to.” 

“It’s fine.” Connor shrugged, took a sip of his coffee, glanced fleetingly at Evan before settling down on the sofa. “Do you wanna watch TV?”

Evan nodded. He moved to sit next to Connor, and barely looked at the screen when Connor flicked through the channels for something to watch.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Evan bit his lip. He wasn’t going to push it, but he couldn’t help feeling curious. Connor hadn’t sounded angry on the phone, it was more… exasperated? Annoyed? He had sounded like a regular brother getting a little pissy at his younger sister, but then, how would Evan even known? He’d never had a sibling, or anything like one. And he didn’t know Connor – he knew a lot, yeah, but he didn’t know everything. He didn’t know what Connor looked like when he was angry, when he was just pretending to be. He didn’t know what Connor was like before he got violent, and as much as Evan hoped that he’d never have to find out, he thought it would be beneficial to have some kind of warning, just in case. 

“She's just a vengeous little fucker,” Connor said. “I mean, I guess I deserve it, but sometimes I just- Evan, you need to know that I’m not mad at her or anything. My promise isn't worth a lot, but I swear I’m not going to do anything. I just need you to know that.”

Evan nodded, “It's okay, I know.” He was quiet, for a moment, until he felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?” 

Connor nodded. “Fine.”

Evan reached across the space he’d left between them. He caught Connor’s hand, and held it until Connor looked up at him, curious. “Are you sure?” Evan asked.

Connor swallowed hard before nodding. “Yeah,” he said, the word accompanied by a squeeze of Evan’s hand. “I’m good.”

Evan smiled. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may also have noticed that I've added this work to a series - the other half, "Dear Evan Hansen" is this story but from Connor's perspective. I've only written the first chapter so far, but I'm working on the others, and it should be up to date by the end of the week. "Dear Evan Hansen" is a lot more graphic when it comes to Connor's self-harm and depression, though, so be careful to check the T/W before you start reading


	9. Chapter 9

“You’ll do fine,” Connor said. His hand was on the small of Evan’s back, guiding him through a white picket fence to a large house that looked like the last place on earth that Connor Murphy should live. “Just… try to calm down.”

 _I have never been calm in my life,_ Evan thought, as he slipped through the fence that Connor was holding open and tried to unlock his rigid limbs. He didn’t tell Connor that – not because he didn’t want him to know, but because Evan was afraid that if he were to open his mouth, he’d throw up.

The path to Connor’s front door was the longest front path on earth, and it seemed an eternity of silence before Connor was opening the door and steering Evan inside.

“Mom?”

Connor kicked his shoes off as soon as the door was closed behind them, and silently, Evan did the same.

He tried to figure out _how_ this had become his life.

One minute, he’d been drinking coffee, thinking about making a bowl of cereal while watching shitty cartoons with Connor. And the next, he was being told that Connor’s mother had called and wanted both of them to be home for lunch.

Evan couldn’t recall ever being more afraid in his life. He would take an orthodontist appointment over this, any day – he would take falling out of a tree and breaking his arm, confronting his father after all these years – _he would take standing up in front of people and singing a song about foreskin over this._  

Evan didn’t like to let people know him, because he was afraid that they wouldn’t like what they saw. He was afraid that he would get comfortable, talk about things that he wouldn’t talk about to anyone but himself, and that they would _hate_ _him_ for what he had to say.

And so, standing in Connor Murphy’s front room with a solid hand on the small of his back while he waited for Connor’s mother to come greet them was _literally_ the most terrifying experience of Evan Hansen’s life. 

He felt like he was being led to the slaughter – that the scraping sounds of saucepans in the kitchen were the tools that would finally end his life. Because if Connor’s parents didn’t like him, and they told Connor that they weren’t allowed to be friends anymore-

 _No,_ Evan thought. _Connor wouldn’t listen to them. Connor never listened to his parents – if anything, them telling him to stay away from Evan would just make Connor want him more._

With a small voice, barely audible to even himself, Evan asked, “Any last minute advice?” 

“Just agree with everything they say,” Connor said. It sounded like something Jared would say, and for just a second, the familiarity of the advice made him feel calm. “Don’t put your elbows on the table, don’t reach over anyone’s plate to grab something off the table, and don’t talk to my dad about sports.”

“Sports?” Evan laughed, nerves rising in his chest. “Do I look like I know anything about sports?” 

“That’s why I told you not to bring it up,” Connor said. “If you start feeling overwhelmed, or you think you’ve done something wrong, just let me know and I’ll get you out of there. Okay?” 

“Anything else?” Evan asked, half hoping that there was. Even if Evan wasn’t sure that he could remember all of Connor’s rules, there was something about the steady thrum of his voice that made it easier for Evan to breathe.

“Yeah,” Connor said. “About my sister. Please don’t fall in love with her.”

And that was the last thing Connor had the chance to say before the sitting room door swung open and a woman in yoga pants came walking in.

She had her arms extended, and Evan was briefly terrified that she would attempt to shake his clammy, sweaty hand before she moved even further into his personal space and wrapped her arms around him. 

Her ginger hair stuck up Evan’s nose, and he tried desperately to hold back a sneeze – he did _not_ want to sneeze on Mrs Murphy’s head.

“Oh,” she sighed, squeezing Evan’s shoulders with a shockingly strong hold. “You must be _Evan_. I’m Connor’s mom, you can call me Cynthia. I’ve never met one of Connor’s friends before – I was beginning to think he didn’t have any.” 

She pushed Evan back but kept hold of his upper arms as she looked at him, eyes scanning over every inch of him, almost as if in search of something. After a few seconds, Evan shifted nervously – he’d barely glanced at Connor from the corner of his eye before he was stepping forwards to intervene. 

“Mom,” he said, catching her hands and placing them back at her sides, “calm down.”

“What?” Cynthia frowned at her son. “I was only saying hello.”

“No, you were freaking him out,” Connor said. “We’re going upstairs. Call us when dinner’s done, okay?” He caught hold of Evan’s hand, and Evan barely had time to tell Mrs Murphy he was glad to have met her too before Connor was dragging him up the stairs.

He felt Cynthia watching them until they were out of sight, and it was only then that Evan allowed himself to sigh.

“You okay?” Connor asked.

Evan nodded. “I feel kinda bad, though,” he said. “Was I rude? I mean, I didn’t hug her back, and then you had to drag her off me and-”

“Don't overthink it,” Connor said. “She has issues with boundaries, she’s probably thinking the exact same thing. Just- forget about it.” He squeezed Evan’s hand. “Okay?”

Evan nodded, “Okay.”

Connor’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. His door was brown, raw wood that looked like it had had its paint chipped off with a screwdriver. The door was closed, and sat opposite to the entrance to another room. That door’s paint was chipped, but not completely gone, and the marks where it _had_ been chipped away looked like they’d been made not with a screwdriver, but by fingernails and fists.

Evan pushed down the ill feeling that arose when he realised what that meant – that that was Zoe’s door, and that the damage had been done by Connor.

That sick feeling dispersed, however, when Connor pushed open his bedroom door and invited Evan inside. He had to remember – had to keep reminding himself – that no story was black and white, and that Connor was bad, sometimes, but that he was getting help, and that he was getting better.

Evan could see it – he could see it when he and Connor talked, when they just sat together in silence. There was an air about Connor that was getting calmer, less violent – he was swearing less, he was smiling more.

Evan would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“So,” Connor said, and Evan was snapped out of his reverie when he realised that Connor sounded almost _nervous_. He was holding the door open from the outside, so that Evan would have to duck under his arm to get in. Connor smiled, lips lifting crookedly as the corners of his eyes became creased. “This is it,” he said. 

Evan stepped through the door, and Connor followed him inside.

Connor’s bedroom was nothing like Evan had imagined it; he had expected band posters, dark paint and hard floors, a messy desk and dirty plates. What he saw instead was a perfect picture of chaotic order – mountains of CDs were stacked against the far wall, which was bare of both posters and paint. Instead, the wall was made of red brick, some of the rectangles marked where the plaster had been scraped away. Connor’s bed was tucked into the corner, the grey sheets pushed to the bottom and hanging off the edge. There were clothes strewn over the footboard, sleeves of black jackets dangling in the floor. Boots and shoes were scatted around, under chairs and on top of nightstands, and there were a few pairs of balled-up socks piled untidily around the base of a lamp.

Connor swore slightly when he saw the mess. 

Letting go of Evan’s hand – which, Evan noted, he’d had no reason to have been holding for all this time – he moved to his bed and started grabbing the jackets up into his arms. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, dumping the jackets into a hamper and shoving the lid down. “I would have tidied up a bit if I’d known you were coming.” 

“It’s okay,” Evan said. He took a seat on the edge of Connor’s bed, where the jackets and shirts had been. “I like it.” He glanced around the bare, brick walls – the stacks of CDs – the balled up colourful socks. “It’s very you.”

“A hot mess?” Connor snorted. “Thanks, buddy.”

“You know what I mean,” Evan said, bouncing his knees, not quite sure if that was a good sign or not. In some ways, he felt more at ease here, alone with Connor – in other ways, he was terrified that if he did something wrong here, in Connor’s home, he would have nowhere to run away. “It feels like you.” 

“You’re a fucking sap, you know that?” Connor snorted, and moved to sit down at Evan’s. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and Evan felt himself leaning into Connor’s personal space. Looking at Evan, Connor asked, “Are you going to be okay? My mom can be a bit much sometimes, so if you want to go, I can make up some excuse to get you-” 

“It’s fine,” Evan said. “I’m fine.”

“There’s that word again,” Connor mused. “Fine. Evan Hansen is always fine.”

Evan snorted, “Evan Hansen wishes.” Connor cast a long look at Evan, eyes almost closed as the light of the sun slanted across them. The brown of his eyes looked almost molten in the light, golden lashes framing them as they lingered on Evan’s face. 

Connor’s lips parted, ever so slightly, like he had something to say, but Evan never got to hear what it was, because before Connor could speak, his bedroom door swung open.

“Cover everything you wouldn’t show your mother,” a voice said, and a second later, a girl’s face appeared.

Even before her head popped through the gap in the door, Evan knew who she was. Even if she hadn’t been Connor’s sister, Evan would have recognised her voice _anywhere_. Zoe Murphy was well known at school, admired for her intelligence and beauty and strength. She played in the school’s jazz band, was the captain of the soccer team, and she was a contender for valedictorian of their graduating class.

She was so unlike Connor that, the first time Evan had heard that they were related, he’d almost choked.

Zoe was kind and considerate and talkative, approachable and sweet. She was loved by everyone who knew her, and Connor… was not. 

Cautiously, Zoe opened an eye. Her gaze went to Connor, first, and then Evan. She opened the second eye when he smiled awkwardly in her direction, and she smiled back.

Evan felt his heart kick in his chest. Suddenly, Evan understood why Connor had asked Evan not to fall in love with her – because there was a real chance that Evan could. He had seen Zoe smile before, but he’d never been on the receiving end of one.

Connor’s voice echoed in Evan’s head – _‘She never knew how wonderful that smile could make someone feel.’_  

“Hi,” Zoe said, still smiling, and Evan felt his cheeks grow warm. “I’m Zoe.”

“I know,” Evan said. He glanced fleetingly to the side. “You’re Connor’s sister.”

_Why?_

_What was that even?_

_Jesus Christ, Why?_

Zoe smiled again, snorting in that cute, quiet way that girls sometimes did. Rocking forwards against the doorjamb, she said, “Yeah, I am. Though you wouldn’t know it for looking. You’re Evan, right?” 

“Yeah!” Evan said, too enthusiastically, but it was too late to change that now. “We have biology together.”

“I know we do,” Zoe said. “You were lab partners with my friend Jess last year, remember?” 

Evan remembered – he remembered doing all of the work while Jessica surfed Facebook for the entire year, and being too afraid to call her out on it. He didn’t say that, though. He said, “Yeah, I think so. Did she leave school?”

“No, she just dropped bio, I-” her eyes shifted to the side, and her face visibly paled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Next to Evan, Connor frowned. “Why are you in my room?”

Zoe looked down at her feet, which were just slightly outside of the room. “I’m not.”

“Why don’t you go bother your own friends?” Connor asked. 

“I’m not bothering _yours_.” Zoe looked to Evan, her eyebrows raised. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” 

“No,” Evan said automatically. His breath hitched when he caught Connor flinch. _Please don’t fall in love with her._ “But, uh- me and Conner were going to do some homework. It’s due tomorrow, and-” Evan shrugged, helplessly, hoping that Zoe would get what he meant and that he would look like an idiot while doing it. 

Slowly, Zoe’s eyes grew narrow. “Uh huh,” she said, in a way that meant that she didn’t believe a word of it. But she stopped leaning on the side of the door, and uncrossed her ankles to take a step back. “I can take a hint,” she said. “Mom said dinner will be ready in five, so don’t start anything you can’t finish by then.”

She winked, then, and Evan was terribly confused. Connor rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh, and Zoe grinned at him before closing the door on her way out.

Evan didn’t bother pondering what the wink was about – it was probably just some in-joke between her and Connor, something that Evan could never truly understand, even if someone explained it to him.

Evan looked to Connor, who was still staring at the door, a slight frown creasing his lips. Evan felt the need to say something, so, drawing on the admiration he knew Connor felt for his sister, he said, “She was nice.”

“Sure she was.” Connor sighed. “She’s great.”

“Um, are you okay?” Evan shifted to face Connor more directly, and it was only then that he noticed the pale flush hovering over Connor’s cheeks. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine.” 

Evan's lips twitched into a smile. “Fine?”

Connor sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes. I’m fine, Evan.” He shook his head, letting his hair fall down over his face. “Just leave it.”

“Hey.” Evan shifted closer to Connor, reaching between them to lay their hands together, their fingers just barely touching at the tips. “What’s wrong?”

Connor looked down at their hands, but made no attempt to move his away. He said, “Nothing’s wrong. I just- I get this thing, sometimes, where stuff just annoys me. Like, not even real things, just like- the sound of someone breathing, or my sister’s feet in my room, or-”

“Me?” Evan asked.

Connor shook his head, “No. Not you.” His finger moved, only slightly, his pinkie slipping just between Evan’s middle and index fingers. “Never you,” he said. 

Evan sighed. He didn’t dare move, in case he ruined whatever Connor was doing with their hands – he was barely allowing himself to breathe, afraid that if he moved too far, Connor would shift away.

Evan said, “That’s okay. I mean, you’re talking about sensory overload, right? That’s what it sounded like to me, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Connor said. He was still staring at their hands, and Evan felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. Connor’s hands were paler than Evan’s, his fingers narrower, and where Evan’s fingernails were a natural, rosy pink, Connor’s were painted – chipped and black.

“Do you want to listen to some music, or something?” Evan asked. “I don’t know what works for you, but if there’s anything, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I’m okay,” Connor said. He moved his hand away from Evan’s, and he felt disappointment setting in when he realised that Connor was just unzipping his jacket. He shucked his arms out of the sleeves, revealing the plain black shirt underneath, the starry tattoo on the back of his shoulder, and the hundreds of scars rising jaggedly over his arms. He threw the jacket somewhere over his shoulder, and set his hand back down even closer than it had been before.

Quietly, Evan sighed. He looked at their hands – he didn’t think he’d ever spent so long looking at his hands before – until he became aware of the brown eyes staring intently at the side of his face.

Connor said, “You’re not going to leave me if you like Zoe better than me, right?”

Evan frowned, thinking: _What_? He looked up at Connor, slowly, trying not to show his alarm. “No,” he said. “Why would you think that?” 

Connor shrugged a shoulder. He didn’t look like the thought upset him – he almost look like he’d accepted it, that it was inevitable, he was just waiting for it to happen. He said, “People just tend to like her more, you know. And I get it – I wouldn’t want t be friends with me, either – but it’d really fucking suck if you left me for her now.”

Evan looked at Connor for a long time. He looked at him until Connor looked away, until Evan could barely see Connor through the dampness welling up in his eyes.

He looked at Connor until he couldn’t even think about being nervous about actually doing the only thing that he could think would make Connor feel better.

Before he had the chance to overthink himself, Evan grabbed hold of Connor’s hand, and when Connor’s head snapped up in confusion, Evan looked him dead in the eye and said, “That will _never_ happen.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth ever so slightly agape, and Evan froze. He felt his cheeks flame, recalled that when he got nervous he had a tendency to shout, and realised that he’d practically just screamed in Connor’s face.

Not for the first time, Evan hoped that the ground could develop sentience, and a mouth, and swallow him whole.

Evan felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck, and – oh, God – the palms of his _hands_ , but he barely had time to start stuttering out apologies before a grin was spreading across the lower half of Connor’s face. 

“Wow,” he said, sounding vaguely impressed. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Do what?” He asked.

“Sound confident,” Connor said. He was still grinning, brown eyes warm, almost delighted. He punched Evan on the shoulder, lightly, barely enough to make him sway. “I like it,” he said. “It’s sexy.”

If there was anything that could make Evan’s face heat up even more, it was _that_.

The change in temperature must have been visible, because a second later, Connor laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said, slipping his hand out from Evan’s grasp to pat him lightly on the cheek. “I’m not about to jump you or anything. You’re safe.”

Evan laughed, sounding so nervous that he could practically _see_ his fear bleeding into the air. “I know,” he said, after a pause too long to be anything but suspicious. And then, because he was _an_ _idiot_ , “So are you!”

Connor pursed his lips, mouth still smiling, but less than it had been before. “I know,” he said, and Evan felt a brief flash of panic that he had offended Connor in some way before Cynthia’s voice was floating up the stairs.

“Boys!” She called. “Dinner’s ready.”

Connor sighed, and rose swiftly to his feet. Evan watched as he tugged on his jacket – watched the story of his life, scratched and painted into his arms, disappear into the sleeves. Connor offered Evan a hand, and while Evan could get up from the bed without Connor’s help, he took the hand and let Connor pull him to his feet.

“Remember what I said when we got here,” Connor said, still holding Evan’s hand. He didn’t even seem to mind that it was sweaty, and warm. “If you need an out, just kick me in the shin or something, and I’ll get you out, okay?”

“Okay,” Evan said. And because he knew he couldn’t make an even bigger fool of himself if he tried, he squeezed Connor’s hand. “You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm halfway through my exams!!!!! and i decided to write a little update for this to celebrate. i've also updated the tags to include the things that have happened in the last few chapters :D


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